


An Evening Indoors

by flyttadig



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alcohol, Cigarettes, Confession, Dancing, Flushed Romance | Matesprits, M/M, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, Pining, Shadow magic, Slow Dancing, Swing Dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-03
Updated: 2018-11-03
Packaged: 2019-08-16 23:19:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16504742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flyttadig/pseuds/flyttadig
Summary: Slick wants a night out on the town with his right-hand man. Droog offers an alternative.





	An Evening Indoors

**Author's Note:**

> (this takes place in the homestuck A2 universe but i threw in a little bit of problem sleuth shadow-based magic just for funsies. ok anyway enjoy, i haven't written for this fandom in five years but i'm on a hs re-read and it's been fun.)

“How about a night on the town?”

Diamonds Droog cocked a brow without lifting his head, eyes peering over his newspaper to his boss, who stood with a lean against the center table of the Midnight Crew’s underground hideout.

Knowing Spades Slick, a “night on the town” meant blowing every cent at a casino for the hell of it, starting a bar fight for fun, or, worst case, throwing himself into deep shit with The Felt.

Droog was undoubtedly the most violent member of the crew—but it was never without purpose. He didn’t necessarily enjoy causing trouble for the sake of trouble. He’d rather keep his carapace out of it.

“How about an evening indoors?” Droog suggested back as his eyes returned to the paper. He flipped several pages, as he didn’t care for the sports section. If he wasn’t hiding his latest issue of The Grey Ladies, the good ol’ obituaries section was where it was at. As well as the weather.

Slick hopped his rear up onto the table and dangled his legs off the side. “That’s every night, smart guy.” He flipped out his butterfly knife and tipped the paper down with the blunt side. “I’m tryin’ to have some fun.”

Droog gave Slick his attention now, if only because that was the most graceful move he had pulled all month. He folded his paper back up and quietly laid it back down on the table, fingers gently placed over the top. Slick watched with a little grin on his face, assuming he had claimed victory. “Forgive me for being frank, but you’re not thinkin’ outside of the box, Slick,” he began. “There are countless ways to have fun, right here, in the hideout.”

The boss gave a little cock of his head as his grin faded, slipped his blade back into his pocket, and leaned in over Droog. “Let’s hear it.”

The mechanics of troll romance were mostly convoluted to the carapacian inhabitants of Midnight City, yet they all still found themselves using the terminology. Droog didn’t give one single shit about what went on between those kids on Alternia in the past and how they handled their teenage relationships. All that mostly mattered to him was that Slick and Snowman are black, Slick and he are pale, and he also had a tendency to go gray between the two of them. 

For the past few hundred years or so, however, he knew those feelings for Slick were definitely leaning towards red.

He suppressed them well enough.

“We’ve got bottles of some of the finest liquor on this side of the planet. What do you say we put a record on and dance like nobody’s watchin’?”

“We couldn’t go to a club for that?” Slick offered.

“It would be the same. All that would be missin’ is the atmosphere,” Droog started as he got up from his seat and took control by leaning over Slick now. “You think I can’t create a finer atmosphere for the two of us? A more personalized setting?”

Spades considered. That intimacy from Diamonds felt so right, so natural. He gave another little grin. “Dance like nobody is watchin’, you say, but really nobody else would even be around to watch.”

“What’s the matter? You wanna go out to hit on a lady and strike out again? And then you’d get wasted over it and I’ll be carrying you home at three in the morning? All I’m sayin’ is, avoid the disappointment altogether.” Droog spoke lowly and smooth.

Spades Slick gave an ill-mannered tsk at Droog’s astute accuracy. The most a woman has given him in the past few months was a single dance. Most have rejected his offer for a drink in a bar. He was beginning to sense a pattern, but Droog had noticed sooner and was now using it against him.

Or maybe this was good. Maybe some alone time with his right hand man was what he needed.

Because he knew Droog wouldn’t turn him down for a dance, at worst not without an eye roll first. He wasn’t the same as a dress-clad mysterious dame in the dim lighting of a club, but he still looked sharp. And he understood him. Best of all, Droog was offering in the first place. There wouldn’t be any complications about it.

Slick gave the man before him a look up from his chest, following the lines of his white suspenders and white tie to his narrow face. How… strangely convincing he looked when he wasn’t wearing his suit coat. He knew how to create a secondary silhouette with his clothing. “Alright. But I’m expecting you to show me a good time.”

“Only the best,” Diamonds responded, and offered his hand to his boss. Slick took it without skipping a beat and the man led him into the parlor of the hideout.

It seemed Boxcars and Deuce were content to play some card games in Deuce’s room for the evening, as they’d already been in there for an hour by now. Droog thought about how close their friendship was without it ever having a need to turn pale, on account of the two of them both being pretty stable, for their standards at least. Weirdly enough, it warmed his heart a little, and in this situation he was also grateful for the privacy.

Droog turned to Slick as he continued to lead him inside with a little smile on his face, walking backwards into the parlor and turning on the light. There was a single loveseat, another single chair, a side table, a pool table to the side, and in the back corner a liquor cabinet and a little counter. There was also a gramophone and a box full of vinyl records that the whole crew shared toward the front, and a small television. “Let’s see, where to begin with you…”

Slick gave him a little snort of a laugh, sharp teeth baring themselves. Droog was clearly enjoying himself already—probably a testament to how much he abhorred the idea of going outside and blowing money and most likely bullets tonight.

“Let’s start off with drinks, eh, boss?” Droog slowly released Slick’s hands, fingers lingering in the shorter man’s palms. He turned with grace to the liquor cabinet in the back. He already knew what Slick liked to start off with: a Jack and coke. Slick’s never admitted it out loud, but Droog knew that he liked it because it had his old name in it. He knew this because Slick was predictable, at least to him. “Hmmm…” he hummed to himself quietly as Slick sat on the loveseat in wait. Then Droog prepared himself his own drink. Tonight he would start off with a bourbon milk punch. Boxcars was always the one to poke at Droog and say he should become a bartender on the side with the amount of perfectionism and finesse he applies to mixing drinks and his presentation. Droog only thought it was right—if you’re going to blow money on something nice, why not treat it with care?

Droog returned to Slick, offering the cocktail to him. Slick took it with ease and started at it. He already knew what it was, because he knew that Droog knew what he liked. The taller man set his own drink on the side table after taking a sip, and made his way to the gramophone. “Now, what would the dear boss like…” he mused aloud with a twinge of light deadpan sarcasm as he flipped through the vinyl selection carefully, one by one.

“Droog, you’re in high spirits.”

“Am I? Probably because,” he found just what he wanted—or rather just what he thought Slick would want, “it’s not every night I get to spend alone time with you inside.” He stood up, removed the dust cover from the turntable, and slipped out the vinyl, carapace fingers ever ginger with the material. He skimmed over the track list and figured he might as well start with side A, like a decently rational person and not with side B like some deranged heathen. He brought life to the turntable, placed the record on, and even gave it a once-over with the vinyl brush to remove any old dirt. Then he took the needle to the record, adjusted the volume slightly, and made his way back to Spades Slick as the grain introduced the first track. It was a song that started the entire compilation off well, lively and energetic; the perfect appetizer of things to come. 

“Oh, shit!” Slick exclaimed. “S’been a while since I’ve listened to this one! What a good opener,” he delighted as he was seemingly thrown into a happier headspace, scooting over to make more room for his right hand man. Oh, how music can turn one affectionate with so little effort.

Droog gave him a smile as he took his cocktail and seat next to Slick. “I figured it’s been a few years since you gave this a listen.”

“Where did you find this?”

“It was more toward the back.”

“Figures I forgot about it. Shit,” Slick chuckled to himself. He wrapped an arm over the loveseat, wrist and hand finding their way to Droog’s shoulder. Droog allowed himself to lean back and enjoy Slick’s uplifted attitude with his drink to his lips. Slick knew he definitely wanted to dance after finishing his first drink. He haphazardly began to down it at a bit of a quicker pace in his excitement.

Droog crossed an ankle over his knee and gently bounced it along to the rhythm. “I never really gave this a listen. All I know is you liked it, and I hadn’t heard you listening to it in a while. But it’s pretty good.”

“It gets better! Real good compilation album,” Slick explained eagerly after a rather large swig. The man had seemingly no appreciation for the craftsmanship Droog put into mixing cocktails, but that was to be expected of the man who would be content with an accidental amount of shots of vodka in a half-assed drink. Droog’s intentions weren’t exactly to get his boss fucked up, but it always seemed that Slick didn’t care if he did anyway. The warmth of the whiskey settled into his stomach and he felt it through his body. He gave a content little sigh.

“I believe you. We can have a dance whenever you like,” Diamonds stated as he took a more moderate sip of his drink.

Spades knew he didn’t want to dance too sober as well. Sure, he was more unorganized in his movements when he drank, but at least he felt loose. He didn’t want to feel like all of his moves were federal fucking issues. 

Diamonds enjoyed a good slow dance himself, but at the expense of getting what he wanted tonight by staying indoors, dancing a more lively swing with Spades was an easy cost. Maybe he could coax a slow dance out of him later, anyway. The night was still young.

Slick pulled Droog out of his thoughts as he downed the rest of his whiskey and cola. “Ahh!” he exhaled. “Y’know, Diamonds,” he started, already with a dumb grin on his face, “You mix a mean cocktail. My compliments.” He gave a little toast with his empty glass.

Droog smiled back and clinked his still half-full glass to Slick’s. “Thank you.” Maybe Slick did care a bit more about quality than Droog gave him credit for.

“M’ready t’dance,” Slick said, getting up from his seat as another song began on the gramophone, the sound of drums introducing the track. He rested his glass down on the side table. “Y’know any good moves? Anything you been hiding all these centuries?” He only stumbled for a fraction of a second as his movement caused the alcohol in his blood to stir. Droog noticed it nonetheless.

The taller man got up and followed, placing his glass on a coaster on the table, then sliding one under Slick’s as well. Although it was empty, condensation was still present around it. “Hmm… I feel like you’ve seen everything, at least at some point. That doesn’t mean I can’t put a new spin on anything, though. For instance…” He listened to the music and snapped along with the rhythm as he caught it. He then reached and took Slick’s hand, pulling him on the empty space of the floor.

Slick amusedly watched Droog attempt and succeed in a passably decent swing as the music picked up, his legs clearly not used to such footwork but he worked his way around it. It seemed the easiest way to compensate was to shimmy his shoulders a bit. He found himself smiling to himself as he watched Slick’s eyes study him. “How’s this, Spades?” Diamonds asked with some sort of sultriness in his voice, playful and inviting.

“Yeeaahhh! Yeah, yeah, that’s it!” Slick exclaimed with a laugh as he joined and took Droog’s hand in his own. The familiar woodwinds, brass, and percussions of the music washed over his tipsy body. It had been so long since he’d heard this tune, and seeing Droog dance to it gave it a whole new meaning to him. “Let’s get serious!”

Droog let Slick take control and lead their dance. Swing dancing was much more Slick’s scene, and Droog never minded taking a feminine roll when the situation called for it. Slick spun the other man around, and he followed suit and twirled back into his arms, trying to keep his legs in rhythm to his boss’. Whose movements were already wild due to his slight inebriation, but probably even more so from the amusement of watching his lifelong moirail follow his lead. Their hands parted and Droog took a few steps away to reach for his drink, blessed himself with a swig, and returned to his dance partner. Slick took his waist and hand in his own, and Droog caught on immediately and placed his other hand on Slick’s shoulder. Slick rocked him energetically, sharp teeth baring themselves in a smile, his loose moves almost dragging Droog along, but the other man didn’t mind at all. In fact, he laughed a bit as he was led haphazardly on the floor.

“This serious enough for you?” Droog asked as the music picked up again and he parted from his boss for a short while, the towers known as his legs nimble and his loafers waging war against the carpeted floor.

“Definitely!” he responded, and as the music was coming to a close, he pulled him back into his embrace and grazed his mouth over the taller man’s jawline where he could reach. Droog’s biggest weakness, unbeknownst to most, was any and all affection received from Slick. He chuckled lowly to himself, for as much as it flattered him, his voice always somehow stayed soft and invigorating. It made him seem like he was still in control. He gave another twirl, and finished right as the music ended, suddenly realizing how winded he’d become. He couldn’t remember the last time he danced with that much energy.

“Spades,” he gasped, his back pressed against Slick’s front and their hands intertwined. He turned his neck a bit to watch the man behind him. Their height difference only made it more endearing to him.

“Droogle-poogle,” Slick responded goofily, eyes shut and smile so absolutely stupid and punchable.

Droog immediately threw Slick’s hands out of his, with an eyeroll and a, “Shut the hell up,” as he made his way back to the side table to finish off his bourbon milk punch. Then he took their glasses back to the counter to fix something else for the two of them. Some bottles of juice were retrieved for the preparations.

Slick laughed much louder than necessary and turned a dial on the gramophone to lower the volume for a moment. “Alright, alright, jokes aside, that was aces, Droog! Didn’t know you had it in you.” He grinned to himself as he unbuttoned and shimmied out of his suit jacket, tossing it on the single chair of the parlor.

“Trying to keep some surprises up my sleeves. Can’t reveal all my tricks, y’know,” he explained as his back was turned, mixing another two cocktails. He returned to Slick with the beverages, pleased to see his jacket discarded and leaving his charcoal turtleneck underneath. There was an embroidered black spade on the left breast, which was usually covered by the extra layer. Droog placed the drinks back on the coasters on the side table, then drew his cigarette carton from the back pocket of his trousers; two taps on the bottom, then he slid one out and returned the small box to its previous location. With the cigarette to his lips, he flicked his favorite zippo lighter to life and took a long drag.

“I see. Maybe I can get you to reveal some more secrets to me later,” Slick tried to persuade, tugging Droog close to him by the bottoms of his suspenders. His hips bumped into the shorter man’s torso. He wasn’t much of a convincing smooth-talker. But the action was incredibly alluring. Droog rested a hand on the shorter man’s shoulder, chest level to his neck, his other hand brought up to the cigarette at his lips.

“We’ll see how the rest of the night goes, Slick. I won’t make any promises.” His hand crept to the back of Slick’s head to keep him steady as he inhaled, then his other hand rested at his boss’ cheek. He leaned in to exhale smoke in Slick’s mouth. Slick accepted it with half-lidded eyes—it wasn’t the worst tasting fumes he’s received.

When Slick exhaled, he gave a little half snarl. “Stingy.” Droog offered back a little chuckle.

How Droog almost wished he could grind himself a little more against Slick, tease a little more, give something a little extra that just bordered on flush. Wishful thinking, indeed. He and Slick always had a bit of a playful intimacy between them when in private—it just came naturally. Fixing one another’s suit collars; Droog slowly chalking the tip of his cue stick during a game of pool with a knowing smirk as a joke; Slick tugging Droog close and brushing his lips along his cheek… Droog resisting the urge to melt.

Then Droog realized—maybe he could reveal a secret to Slick tonight after all. His hands reluctantly left Slick’s carapace and the shorter man took it as a sign to stop gripping his subordinate by his formalwear before he began complaining about wrinkles in his shirt.

“I’m gonna sit this song out,” Slick said, his ass plopping back down onto the loveseat. Droog took their drinks and opted to join him again. “Whatcha got for me now?”

“Do you really care?” Droog asked as he handed the glass down to Slick.

“Well it don’t look like whiskey and coke.”

“It’s just orange juice and vodka.”

It wasn’t Spades’ absolute favorite, but he figured Diamonds was trying to add some variety. He could tell Diamonds’ drink was a clear difference to his milk-based beverage from before, now a pinkish-orange.

“Alright, well what about yours?”

“Gin and juice.” Droog took his seat next to Slick and took a careful sip. He shut his eyes for a moment as he listened to the music and appreciated his own craftsmanship.

Slick watched him for a moment, then scooted closer until their thighs met.

“Hey.”

Droog’s eyes followed down to Slick’s voice mid-sip. “Hey,” he responded, then turned his head to give him his attention. The lively music continued onward.

“Next song after this one is a little slower. Y’wanna join me for that one?”

Droog gave a smile and brought his cigarette back to his lips. “Whatever you want,” he exhaled.

“No, no, I’m offering because I know you like, like, waltzes and slower dances n’ shit,” Slick explained, waving his hand around a bit.

“I didn’t know you’d be open to that type of thing.”

“Well, I mean, you’re doin’ all this for me—makin’ drinks, n’ puttin’ on records. Cripes, ya even danced a swing wit’ me. I can’t remember the last time you danced like that, let alone with me, or with me _ever_ ,” Spades elaborated with a slight slur.

Diamonds laughed quietly to himself, retreating to his cigarette and staring back down at his drink away from Spades. He could feel his face getting flustered and he blamed it on the bourbon and gin. He still found himself scooting a little closer into the other man’s presence. Needless to say, they were closer than they needed to be on the loveseat, but preferred it that way.

“I appreciate it. Just didn’t think you’d wanna slow dance with me. S’kinda intimate. You sure you’re down for that?” Droog looked back to Slick again.

Spades Slick straightened himself and suddenly looked the taller man in the eyes. “Aren’t we… always a lil’ intimate?”

He asked the question as if just a moment ago Droog wasn’t shotgunning Slick while his boss held him captive by his suspenders. For some reason, it still threw Droog off to have Slick say it out loud.

“I’m just sayin’, a good slow dance can have the power to draw someone in… You sure you won’t fall for me?” Droog teased. He carefully placed his hand on the other man’s thigh with his cigarette between his fingers. He was trying to play it off, but for Slick it felt real. He knew it was real.

Slick took a considerably large gulp of his drink, not once taking his eyes off the other man. He needed it for what he was about to say. 

“Would it really be so bad if I did?”

Droog didn’t know how to respond, but thankfully the third track was ending and he got up. He placed his glass on the side table once more, set his cigarette in the ashtray, and snapped a finger. The stray candles scattered around the room were lit with life and purple flames. He reached his hand out for Slick.

The Midnight Crew’s leader gave a toothy smile and followed by placing his drink down as well (this time actually on the coaster) and taking his subordinate’s hand.

Droog leaned back and turned the lights down low and the music back up, and with no words, claimed the masculine roll with his hand at Slick’s hip, and led him into a waltz that he already knew Slick would fuck up. That didn’t matter to him.

The jazz pulled them along gently.

“So how long?”

“A few hundred years that I’ve known for sure. For a long time I was still unsure but the feelings were there.” Droog led Slick in their box motion dance.

“Since Derse?”

“Probably since Derse.”

“Jeezus Christ, Droog, and you never told me?”

“I was too busy being pale for you. Too busy being gray between you and Snowman. Too busy with the Crew. I didn’t have room f’those feelings.” Droog thought his explanation was pretty cut and dry, pretty simple, pretty obvious.

“Were you _ever_ gonna tell me?”

“Eventually, but only if the moment arose,” Droog answered. All his life he was also prepared to take it with him to the grave. “Tonight’s as good a time as ever, I suppose.” 

Slick continued to follow along to the tune and grain of the record, ignoring when he messed up a step. He looked up to Droog. “Do ya think I’m too busy for feelings like that?”

“You’ve got plenty on your plate already, Slick. You ain’t gotta worry about reciprocating.” Droog took a deep breath and almost wished this wasn’t happening. He wasn’t necessarily afraid of rejection or afraid of the confession in the first place. He just didn’t want to complicate anything, didn’t want to cause trouble, and he especially didn’t want to lose Slick.

Spades gripped Diamonds’ hand a little harder. He looked down in thought, then back up to his subordinate. “We handle what we’ve already got goin’ on pretty well.”

“Exactly, so you don’t gotta—“

“So where’s the harm if it gets a little red?”

Droog could feel himself getting warm again and this time knew it wasn’t the alcohol. This wasn’t exactly how he pictured this conversation going. For centuries he built up the perfect situation in his head. For some reason, his ideal confession happened over death. Instead it was happening over a slow dance to a slightly-forgotten record inside the hideout, coated with inebriated movements and mood lighting and cigarette smoke. He honestly never predicted it would be as strangely romantic as it seemed.

“We ain’t gotta tell nobody, Droog. At least not for a while,” Slick assured quietly.

The taller finally gave in. “…Nah, I don’t—I don’t wanna hide this from the others. They deserve t’know. I just don’t want ‘em to get uncomfortable. We should take it slow.”

“Right… And when ya think about it, exactly how much would change?”

“Well for starters, we would prob’ly actually kiss.”

It dawned on Slick in that moment that for as long as Droog was apparently flushed for him, he most likely had countless ideas, scenarios, and fantasies just dwelling in his head. “So you’re down?” he gave Droog that expectant smile again.

He couldn’t help but smile back. “You know I ain’t gonna leave you no matter what.”

“Yeah, you’re stuck wit’ me!” Slick almost tripped over his subordinate’s shoe in a misstep but recovered quickly.

“I’ve lasted this long. I’m sure I can keep going for a few hundred more years or so,” Droog said softly, hardly fazed by Slick’s joking tone. He carefully spun his boss once around, then gracefully dipped him down, hand caressing Slick’s gently until bringing it close to his lips and kissing his ring—an action he had done countless times over, but this time giving it a tender, loving flavor. His eyes looked to Slick with indisputable adoration.

Slick froze, watched Droog from down below, then flashed another grin. The record spun on.

**Author's Note:**

> the first song they dance to is "sing, sing, sing" by benny goodman. the second song they dance to is "everytime we say good bye" by john coltrane.


End file.
